


Up Close and Personal

by IceGoliath



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Criminal Masterminds, M/M, Past Barry/Tony, Poor Barry, mick is not jealous, the short con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceGoliath/pseuds/IceGoliath
Summary: There was a piece of art worth millions being held in the basement vault of the Central City Museum and a week ago he'd bet Len that they couldn't steal it.Mick had gotten to know most of Len's cons over the years. This one was known as the 'Up Close and Personal' and the unwitting 'mark' was an archivist called Barry Allen.AU, no powers, just criminal behaviour.





	Up Close and Personal

Barry Allen had spent the last two days in his room under his duvet, listening to Iris trying to be sympathetic, but at the same time saying I told you so. She'd barely tolerated Tony for the whole time they were together and then he’d proved that he was the asshole she'd always thought he was.  
And now that same asshole had been out partying whilst he was pathetically hiding.  
He only knew this after having seen proof in the form of photos on Facebook and had immediately regretted viewing them. Iris called him a massochist and threatened him with a night out so he could 'get over it'. Tony being the aforementioned 'it', as his name was no longer to be uttered in their house.  
The Central City Museum annual benefit, -blatantly used as an opportunity to suck up to wealthy donors-, was not the place he wanted to show off his newly single status, but after being forced into a tuxedo by Iris and shoved out of the door; he found himself sitting like a zombie in the back of a cab and remembering from first hand experience why objecting was a complete waste of time.  
He patted his inside pocket where his security pass was safely stowed. Any employees attending the benefit had been asked to bring theirs in case a donor wanted a tour of the museum. It hadn't happened for years, but management had vehemently insisted, upon pain of unemployment.  
When the cab pulled up in front of the museum, Iris got out first carrying the tickets and dragged him up the steps. Golden light bounced off the chandelier in the lobby, covering the floor, his tuxedo and anything else within it's radius in shining shapes. He stopped at the top of the steps and took in a short breath to calm himself, having only mere seconds before Iris impatiently grabbed him by his jacket sleeve and yanked him through the doors, over to the temporary bar at the back of the main ballroom.  
She disappeared, doing her best impression of a social butterfly, leaving him to prop up the bar and to impersonate a fully functional human being.  
He glanced across the dark wood bar, observing his reflection momentarily in the mirrors behind the displayed bottles as he raised his hand to catch the attention of the bartender; a tall blonde, who looked like he didn’t want to be there and grumpily took his order for a whisky and club soda, then refused to take the money, saying that he looked like he was having a worse night than he was and that he should have it on the house.  
Barry took it gratefully with a nod and turned on his barstool to face the ballroom. The four piece string quartet of immaculately dressed men and women took pride of place on the small stage in the corner of the room, playing something that sounded classical, but he wasn’t sure what.  
He scanned the floor for Iris, who was smiling graciously at the police chief and his partner, then when she was approached by a young man, moved away to dance.  
He felt the invasion of his space before he even saw who it was. Someone sat on the barstool next to him and the bartender stomped over and stood waiting for the order. From his position, Barry noticed that the man glanced at the drinks like they they were unknown to him, a confused look on his face. The bartender started tapping his foot impatiently as the bar was gradually filling up with customers  
“Whisky and club soda's pretty good here” Barry leant over and spoke in an exaggerated whisper.  
The man nodded and confirmed to the bartender, before turning to face him with a smile. Behind thick rimmed glasses, he had blue eyes the colour of ice. Barry felt his heart thump wildly in his chest.  
“Thanks for the save. I don’t really drink.” he said with a languid drawl "Feel like I needed one tonight though"  
Barry returned the smile.  
“I needed one tonight too." The other man smirked, it made his stomach lurch pleasantly, then he realised what he just said "I mean" he stammered "I don't really drink either." He said, regaining his composure. "I’m Barry.”  
He offered his hand to the man who shook it. His hand was warm, but slightly rough.  
“Nice to meet you Barry. I’m Leonard. My friends call me Len.”

 

*****************************************************************************************************

Around the side of the museum, camouflaged in the shadows; Mick had taken up a crouched position that was slowly sending his legs to sleep, the smouldering embers from the cigarette dangling from his lips the only indication that he was there. He observed silently as a few women dripping in jewels paraded past his location, up the steps and through the doors, making him wish that he didn't already have a job to do that night.  
He was there for two reasons. One because there was a piece of art worth millions being held in the basement vault of the museum and two, because a week ago he'd bet Len that they couldn't steal it; as to get through the vault door, there was a security system that needed a key card and a fingerprint. Len had smirked and taken the challenge.  
The benefit was the perfect cover; a room full of distractions and a mass of people having a good time, which by happy coincidence also included the ones with high level security clearance.  
After days of doing research and looking through personnel profiles to find their 'mark', they finally settled on an archivist called Barry Allen. From his Facebook page and twitter feed he did nothing particularly impulsive or outrageous, so was unlikely to do anything idiotic. The other reason they chose him was that he was recently single. They could work with that. Well, Len could work with that.  
He'd gotten to know most of Len’s cons over the years, the compulsive freak even named them. The 'slide’ was the one that caught him.  
He was 25 and having just finished significant jail time, decided to rob an apartment block in the richer part of town. He'd made a getaway, then stopped at a diner for a burger and put his bag by his feet. The light fingered thief got more than he bargained for and they hooked up a few days later. They'd been partners ever since.  
This one was known as the ‘up close and personal’ and was always accompanied with an act to cover up for fast and nimble fingers foraging in pockets.  
All Mick had to do was follow the plan.

 

*******************************************************************************************

 

“Are you here with anyone tonight?” Barry enquired  
“No, I’m stag tonight”  
Barry was bestowed with an amiable grin, but it failed to reach Len's eyes.  
“I don’t mean to pry, but do you want to talk about it? Iris has always said that I’m a good listener.”  
“Who’s Iris?” The other man's voice not quite hiding his jealousy.  
Barry laughed.  
“My best friend. She dragged me out tonight. Bad break up, so she didn’t want me by myself”  
“You or her?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“The break up”  
“Me. Turns out she was right to hate him for years.” Barry glazed over, as he talked. “To tell you the truth, I’m glad she's dancing and having fun or I would have got the sympathy looks all night.”  
“We can change the subject if you like” offered Len  
Barry grinned at the consideration of his feelings. He glanced at his new acquaintance over his drink, examining his facial structure and the way the tuxedo hugged his shoulders perfectly. They were nice shoulders.  
“It feels good to talk about it.” He sipped his whisky. “Why are you here tonight?”  
“Hiding from my ex. We broke up a week ago"  
“I’m sorry”  
“Don’t be. He was a bit possessive and thought I was cheating on him the entire time. He won't think to look for me here."  
The sat in an almost uncomfortable silence. Len’s phone beeped abruptly.  
“Text message. Might be my sister” He glanced down and read the message, his face going pale “He’s found me.”  
He dropped the glass he was holding, shards and liqueur coating the floor.  
“How can I help?” Barry uttered gallantly, as Len showed him the message.  
“There is one thing you can do." Len garbled "If he can’t see me, he’ll think I'm not here and look somewhere else” He looked at Barry’s mouth, biting his lip cautiously “I need you to kiss me”  
Barry went silent. The guy was attractive. The fact that his eyes lit up at the mention of Star Trek was very appealing, but it was still an odd request.  
“Please.” Len leant forward and gently ran his hand up Barry’s arm. "He can get violent sometimes.”  
Barry was usually keen to help. A house move, baking cakes, usual stuff.  
He’d never been asked to kiss anyone as a matter of life and death before. But, he couldn’t let someone get hurt when he could have done something about it.  
“Ok”  
He let Len cup his face with his right hand and as their lips grew closer, he could see sharp blue flecks in his eyes. The kiss intensified, with his companion, snaking his hands up the back of his shirt. It was if the breath had been removed from his lungs and he swore he could see stars.

 

***************************************************************************************

The alarm on Mick's phone went at 8.30pm, pulling it out he typed ‘I’m coming for you’ and pressed send. Then he clambered out of the shadows and stood just outside the museum doors, listening for his cue.  
Seconds later he heard glass smash and stopped salivating at the shiny baubles and trinkets inside the museum long enough to put on his most angry face and barrel through the door; ignoring anyone in his way, much to the annoyance of security who could do nothing to stop him.  
Turned out that he didn’t need to fake it, spying his Lenny -who wouldn't notice him in a tux- fawning over the 'mark', made him want to get creative with one of the candlesticks on a table. He stopped himself, having learnt his lesson from previous jobs and the resulting stints in prison; also he had given his word that morning that he would not improvise unless either of them were in mortal danger.  
Len had never appreciated him deviating from his carefully thought out plans and he had never been too keen on the resulting consequences.  
He eyed the little punk who literally shone with so much goodness that it made him feel sick and swore under his breath before stomping across the ballroom, barging past dancers and abruptly slamming to a halt in front of the two men.  
Stretching out a well muscled arm, he pulled Len off the 'mark', letting him fall to the ground in a direction that missed the glass on the floor.  
“Found you”  
His voice boomed around the room, the acoustics that had earlier helped the classical quartet, were now doing wonders for his vocal projection. It was quite motivational.  
When he paused, he could have heard a pin drop.  
Pulling his most intimidating face, he glared at Len who was sprawled on the floor trying to get up.  
“I knew you were cheating on me." his voice low and dangerous so only Len and the 'mark' could hear.  
“You broke up a week ago.” The kid stood up, shielding Len from him. "Leave him alone" From the look of shock and nervousness on his face, Mick guessed he'd surprised even himself.  
He rolled his eyes at the 'mark' playing hero, grabbed a full glass of what looked like beer from the bar and poured it slowly over the kid’s head.  
He knew not to make the incident into one of criminal assault, he wasn’t stupid. The place was swarming with off duty cops.  
He picked up his partner in crime, kissed him soundly on the lips, then threw him over his shoulder a full blown display of alpha male. One that would give no one any doubt that he was in charge. Len pounded his fists on his back, hissing under his breath like a disgruntled viper. Mick smirked at the response.  
The crowd let him past in stupefied shock and he walked them down the steps and around the back of the museum into the trees, where he dropped Len into a pile of leaves.  
“I asked you to put on a show, not improvise because you were jealous." Len spat, brushing the leaves off his clothes.  
Mick knew Len would have been yelling him had they not been vaguely in public.  
“Was not jealous” Mick uttered belligerently “He looked at me funny”  
“You are a terrible liar”  
“Waste of a drink though." He said sadly, then he brightened "Did you get it?”  
Len dug into his pocket, and slowly pulled out a lanyard with the pass swinging happily on the end.  
“Do you need some help getting the taste of that kid out of your mouth?”  
Mick stepped forward and grabbed him, pulling him close like an overly amorous bear. Len wriggled out of the his grasp.  
“Later Mick, we have a job to do.” He dug under the leaves, pulled out a black bag and slung it over his shoulder “Let’s go steal a painting”

 

**********************************************************************************

Back in the ballroom, Barry was still standing in a puddle of beer, open mouthed and completely speechless.  
The benefit had gone back to it’s previous state as soon as the pair had left. Easier to ignore it like nothing had happened. They’d all had too much to drink to be able to do anything about it anyway, even if they'd felt inclined to do so.  
By the time he slumped down onto a bar stool, the liquid was slowing to a gentle drip. The bartender shook his head and placed a neat whiskey on a napkin in front of him  
"Looks like you need it."  
Barry looked up at the voice and smiled morosely. A bar towel then appeared next to the glass and Barry wiped his face, running it over his hair.  
He was there to get over a break up and now he smelt like a bar and probably looked terrible. This is what he got for trying to help someone. Len was a good kisser though, that was a positive about the night.  
He picked up the glass and downed the whisky, regretting it an instant later when it burnt the back of his throat. Putting the glass down on the napkin he noticed some writing on it.  
'Sorry about your shit night. Alex.'  
He glanced over at the bartender who was serving another customer. Before he could do anything to embarrass himself, like say something, Iris finally made it off the dance floor.  
"Barry" Iris' voice a high pitched squeak that he knew as her worried noise. "Are you ok? I'm so sorry" She hugged him tight getting a large beer stain on the front of her dress “Let's go home."  
Barry slyly watched the bartender as they left the building, hoping that his best friend wouldn't notice.  
"He works at 'The Lounge' downtown on a Saturday night." she whispered as they climbed into a cab.  
Iris was not slow.

*******************************************************************************************

It wasn't until he was packing his bag the next morning that he realised that his pass was gone and in the ensuing panic, he almost didn't hear the knock on the front door.


End file.
